No Other
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Hunter and Stephanie celebrate, again, finally, after a few years of not. - One-shot, Post-Mania.


There was always so much going on, constantly, in a normal backstage setting, but on Mania, when every fucking body on the roster on top of a lot of legends filtered about, it could get more than a bit hectic. And as Hunter staggered back there with Ric that night, the wash of emotions he'd had, back out in the ring, was fading away. Just like that. He wasn't Triple H anymore as Flair only tapped him twice on the shoulder and disappeared in the mass of people, as his night was hardly done.

"Gotta get ready," he said over the noise to the other man. "My daughter's the Main Event!"

He sounded pumped and yeah, Hunter had to agree, he was a bit too. Not necessarily for any woman over the other as, regardless of which walked away with a belt for each shoulder, he had a stake in each. Both in the company and personally. But he was still coming down, Hunter was, back into his real self. Triple H was fading and he was just Hunter again, as he headed back to the locker room to hurry and shower off. Get changed. Trips was no longer needed; matches were continuing and corporate Hunter was required.

"You're a monster."

He grinned though, as he found Stephanie right where she'd said she'd be, waiting for him. Maybe he could be Triple H. Just for a bit longer.

"You know I am, baby," he remarked as, once he was close enough, she almost hugged him. Almost. Stopped just short of it.

"You're gross and fuck," she said, even turning when he reached out to touch her face. "And after where your hands have been-"

"Where have my hands been?" he complained, but she only gave him a look.

"All in Dave's nose."

"I didn't shove 'em up there, Steph."

"Shower." She did reach out to pat a hand against his chest. Her eyes were bright though and she had things to do that didn't involve following her husband around (unfortunately), things he had to get back to as well. Still, Stephanie told him, "Later," and he was definitely taking her up on that.

Later would be much alter though, when everything finally died down and the night was over and they had their kids and family and all that shit to deal with, but eventually, they were alone. It was late and both were tired after having been up for a good, oh, month, really, in preparation for Wrestle Mania, but it was all over then. Finally. Just like every year, just like always would, it all came to an end.

Only this year, for the first time in a long time, he came out of it on top.

"I'm not a champ, Steph," he breathed as he tried hard not to fall asleep because if he just stayed away, if he could only last at most another hour, it would be so worth his while, all of it. "I didn't win a title."

"Fuck titles." She was in the adjoining bathroom of their hotel room, brushing her teeth and getting ready. Not for bed. Not yet. But she wanted to change and things, before….before, so he only sat around in bed, giving her halfhearted conversation for making him wait.

"Fuck me," he requested, but softly, because he didn't wanna seem _too_ demanding.

"You're my champion."

"You're making me sound like a loser."

"You didn't lose."

She was coming out then, back into the room, and he was rather glad he'd stayed awake.

"And," she added as she only came closer, "you're never going to again."

Damn right.

When the night ended, the morning was nearly there and he only blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling and prayed for sleep to find him already, but it seemed distant for some reason.

"Steph."

"Hm?"

"You up?"

"No," came the soft reply from beneath some blankets. "But I could be, I guess."

"I can't sleep."

"Really?" Her head popped up then and she was scooting closer to him. "Does your body hurt? Do you want me to get you a-"

"I really just did that. Stephie." Turning his head to the side, he just stared at the woman. "I fuckin' won at Mania."

"Well, you are the greatest wrestler ever."

"Shut up."

"I'm not kidding." Close enough now, she reached out to pat at his chest and he had to fight hard not to wince as, yeah, his body was protesting against what he'd just put it through heavily. As a man edging in on fifty, he was too old for the shit he'd just done. "You're in the fucking Hall of Fame now, babe. That's pretty legit."

"Pretty."

But there was something off about them that night. Both of them. He'd expelled most of his evilness in the ring and she wasn't conniving or sulking about anything, really, that night. She wasn't even pissy over her brother doing well. Because who gave a shit anymore? Steph seemed to have no ill-will against anyone recently and that wasn't like her because, to be honest, his woman was on the outs with more people than he was, usually. Not that year though.

Yet there he was. The one year that Stephanie brought no drama to the table at all, he was the one standing pretty when it all came to an end. He was the victor. Dave could take his ass back to Hollywood with a ripped nostril and broken hand. Hunter didn't care. Triple H was and always would be better than Batista. The end.

But nothing felt final as he laid there. Rather, it felt like something was missing. Like he hadn't thought of everything. How could it be though? He was the victor, the winner, and he...he…

"Did it feel weird for you?" Hunter asked his wife then. "Watching from backstage?"

"I had my Mania moment," she told him with a yawn. "Last year. One was enough for me."

"Do you really mean that though?" He snorted. "You know as well as I do that you don't. How could you? I've had how many over the years? And how many times did I go home broken, embarrassed. But I always have to go back. Always. I tore my pec, Steph."

"I know."

"And I still had to come back, tonight, even though Iw as told not to. You know that, Steph, that the doctors told me not to do it. That I might not be fully healed. But I had to. Not because Batista fucking… Yeah, he fucked with Flair and that set me off, but I could have handled that in other ways. I could have had one of my guys take care of it for me. But I didn't. Because it's fucking Wrestle Mania, Stephanie. You don't taste that once and not go back. Whether you win or lose, you always wanna go back. You have to go back."

She was silent for a moment, as if giving him room to go on. When he didn't, she remarked, "Some of us aren't Daddy's favorite or first born. We don't just get to make up matches for no reason and get ring time."

Oh.

That was what it was. What was missing. His wife.

"Steph-"

"No." She even shook her head then as she sat up, but he was pretty sure it was just so she could stare down at him. She had that complex. Constantly needing to lord over others. Hunter had long found the benefits of it. "It's not even that. I don't care. I'm serious. I don't. And look. I had nothing to do with it at all this year. Your entire thing. And you won. So maybe I just shouldn't be-"

"I didn't want you to be a part of it, Steph, because he'd already fucked Flair up." His gaze was hard. "If he'd have messed with you, I'dda had to...to… I'dda kiled him. I'dda bashed his skull in. I-"

"You won." But she didn't smile. "For the first time in a long time, Hunter, you won."

"I would have if you were out there or not," he insisted. "I just didn't' want you to get hurt."

"It's over."

But it wasn't.

Shoving up himself then, Hunter ignored the fact that his body felt quite miserable then and only moved to grab his wife, pulling her back down to the bed with him. She griped at this, but he just laid over her so that they could stare down into one another's eyes.

"You think I give a shit, Stephanie?" he complained and it was there then. Between them. The darkness. No one could be good forever, but they could hardly make it a night. "Huh? About winning or losing? Fuck titles? Then fuck that too. Fuck it all. Fuck what anyone else sees. I know what I am. I know who I am. I'm better than every damn one of those other guys out there in the ring. I have been since I came up, before I married you, and I've been damn better since then. I am this company. Mania's for fucking casuals and dipshits who don't get it. Don't understand it. If you think that I give a damn if I win then, in front of those assholes, all these assholes, then you don't know me at all."

"I didn't say-"

"If you were bad luck, baby, then I'd go out there and lose. Every damn time. I wouldn't give a fuck. Fuck it all. You're more important than winning. Having you with me is more important than winning."

"Then-"

"Having you safe," he grumbled as he shifted off her once more as, now, this part was a bit more difficult to choke out, "is more important than what I want. Which is for you to be out there. I'm not… Steph, I can't do it anymore. I told you that last year. Keeping you safe and winning a match just isn't going to work. Not anymore. If I have to choose between them, it's always going to be protecting you. And if the best way to protect you is to have you nowhere near where I'm fighting, then that's how it has to be. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings. I'm sorry if that's unfair. But it's how it is. How it was. This time. You're just too important to me."

They settled into silence for a few moments before, slowly, Stephanie came back to his side, her hand falling much more gently that time over his chest as she only closed her eyes.

"I love you too," she whispered softly. "Hunter."

His eyes were too heavy then and it was done. Wrestle Mania was over. Finished. At least for another year. In the morning, they'd all be focused on the next and he always had too much on his plate, but it was the life he chose. And as he breathed the words back to his wife, falling asleep, even, as he said them, he knew he'd choose no other.


End file.
